“He doesn’t know,” I whispered.
Cage’s brown eyes bored into me, watching me intently. I knew the exact moment he put two and two together. His entire demeanor changed and his expression turned hard and violent.
“You in bed with a brother, Danny? ’Cause if you are, Dad is—”
“Cage!” I yelled. “Don’t you dare tell him anything! What I do is none of his business! Or yours!”
“Fuck!” he bellowed, spinning away from me, running his hands through his hair. “You are! You’re fuckin’ a brother!”
“Why was Tegen in your bedroom while you were showering?” I demanded, the only reason why Tegen would have been in my brother’s bedroom suddenly occurring to me. “Does Dorothy need to know you’re screwing her underage daughter?”
His nostrils flaring wildly, his jaw locked up tight, Cage looked every inch our father, the last person I wanted to be reminded of at the moment.
“I’ll figure it out,” he seethed. “Whoever it is, I'll figure it out.”
No, he wouldn’t. There was nothing left to figure out. Ripper was long gone.
“Are you seriously gonna keep yelling at me in front of an abortion clinic?” I asked. “Could we at least get in the truck?”
Cage let his head fall back as he sighed angrily. When he looked back at me, his expression had considerably softened.
“Coulda fuckin’ told me, little sister,” he said quietly. “Woulda never let you go through all this shit by yourself.”
Grabbing my hand, he threaded his large fingers through mine and squeezed. “This is what big brothers are fuckin’ here for,” he said, pulling me toward his truck. “To pick their little sisters up when they fall the fuck down.”
I said nothing while he opened the passenger door, aiding me as I climbed inside.
“You need anything?” he asked.
I pulled my prescriptions out of my purse and handed them to him. “Just these,” I whispered.
Nodding, he shoved the papers in his pocket and closed the door.
I watched him walk around the front of the truck, big and broad, strong and tall, ready to take on the world if he had to.
I could tell him. I could trust someone with what had happened. I could finally unburden myself and my guilty conscience.
I just couldn’t trust him not to tell our father. Maybe he’d keep quiet about my relationship with Ripper, but what I’d done to Nikki…
He’d tell.
I wasn’t sure what my father’s reaction would be, but he would undoubtedly blame Ripper for the entire thing when it wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I’d wrestled the gun away from her, I’d pulled the trigger, and I’d killed her.
As Cage climbed into the truck, I sank back into the seat and closed my eyes. I couldn’t tell a soul. I’d take the secret to my grave, even if it meant I’d have to bear the burden alone. Even if it meant my slow but certain, utter ruin
• • •
Gritting his teeth, Ripper lifted the tire and hefted it up onto the rim of the vehicle when his cell phone started vibrating. Turning around, he pulled his phone out of his coveralls pocket and saw it was Deuce calling him.
Jesus Christ.
Why wouldn’t they stop?
Why couldn’t they just leave him the fuck alone?
His phone beeped, signaling a voice mail. Blowing out a heavy breath, Ripper stalked through the garage and headed outside.
“Jacobs!” Phil Marinetti, the auto body shop’s owner bellowed. “Where the fuck you goin’?”
“Break!” he shouted and kicked open the door.
Lighting a cigarette, he leaned against the wall, pulled out his phone, and listened to his pileup of messages.
“Ripper, it’s Deuce. Got a bead on Jimmy. Word is he’s out in Cali. So, brother, the job’s there if ya want it. Gimme a call.”
And…
“Yo, Ripper, it’s Cox, just wanted to know where the fuck you’re at, brother.”
And…
“Hey, asshole. Hawk here. Just checkin’ the fuck in, makin’ sure you’re still breathin’.”
And before he knew what was happening, his phone started playing his saved messages. All from Danny.
“Please, please call me back. I can’t breathe, Ripper, I can’t think straight and I can’t eat or sleep and everything is all screwed up. I miss you so much…why did you leave?”
He quickly hit end and shoved his phone back in his pocket. Finished with his cigarette, he stalked back inside the shop and back to the old Chevy he was working on.
Ripper had been home in Cali for several months now, cleaning out his parents’ old house, selling their shit, working at Marinetti’s Garage. He’d put away his cut, shaved his head, put his bike in the garage, and after fixing it up, he’d been driving around his old man’s pickup.
He’d stopped fucking blondes that reminded him of Danny.
He was trying to move the fuck on.
But none of those motherfuckers back in Montana were letting him.
And Danny…
Jesus Christ.
She was killing him. The voice mails were getting worse. She was getting worse.
Twice now, after listening to her messages, hearing the raw pain in her voice, hearing her tears, the violent switch of emotions, he’d almost gone back. Almost.
But he couldn’t.
Eventually, she’d get over him. She had to. That was the whole fucking point of this bullshit.
Him leaving so she’d move past what had happened with Nikki, pull herself together and meet a nice guy, one who didn’t have a past worthy of a horror movie, one who could give her everything she deserved. A guy who would look good next to her, look like he fucking deserved a woman as beautiful as she was, inside and out.
A shudder rippled through him.
Fuck him, but he didn’t want anybody else giving her jack shit.
He really had to get a new phone number.
It would get easier, he promised himself. Eventually, after enough time had passed, she’d let it go. Then he wouldn’t be in a constant state of anxiety, ready to haul ass back to Montana every time she called him. Hopefully.
Aw fuck, he wanted her back.
Cursing, Ripper picked up an air ratchet and got back to work.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Deuce glanced across the club to where Danny was lying on one of the leather sofas, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Her hair was a mess, her eye makeup smeared, she was still in yesterday’s clothes, a baggy black T-shirt and dark jeans. The same clothes she’d worn the day before and the day before that.
He watched as Dirty approached the couch and gave her knee a two-finger tap. She lifted her feet up, allowing Dirty to sit down beside her, laid her legs over his lap, and went back to staring up at the ceiling. It wasn’t as if Dirty was touching her, or even paying any attention to her at all. Instead, the guy propped his elbows up on the back of the couch, his gaze on a club rat standing by the bar.
Deuce turned to Eva. “She still won’t talk to you?”
Eva looked toward Danny, then back to him and pressed her lips together, shaking her head.
He sighed. “What about spring semester? Did she agree to sign up?”
“No, baby, she refused. Then not so nicely told me to ‘get the fuck away from her.’ ”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, running his hands through his hair. “What the fuck is wrong with her? She ain’t hangin’ with her friends, and the only person she isn’t shittin’ on is Cage. He ain’t sayin’ shit, and damn if that son of a bitch doesn’t know what’s really goin’ on.”
“He’s protecting her,” Eva said quietly. “It’s what big brothers do.”
“Yeah, well, he ain’t doin’ a very good job. She’s gettin’ booze and smoke from the boys; I can fuckin’ smell it on her. None of them are ownin’ up to it, but I fuckin’ know it. She’s always at the club, either sleepin’ or hangin’ ’round Dirty and Bucket.”
“They would never hurt her.”
“Yeah,” he gritted out. “I know. But they ain’t exactly the type I want my baby girl bein’ best fuckin’ friends with. Don’t know how she can even stand bein’ near Dirty, smellin’ the way he does.”
“I think they smell equally bad,” she whispered.
Deuce cut his eyes at her, frowning. “Babe. Not funny.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“I could toss her ass in the shower,” he suggested. “Hold her down while you dump a bucket of dish soap over her head.”
Eva smiled wryly. “Somehow I don’t think that will go over very well.”
Yeah, he didn’t think so either, but he was sick of sitting around, doing nothing but watching his oldest daughter wasting away, not knowing why or how to fix it.
He was motherfucking cursed, had to be. As soon as shit started getting better with Eva, the second he thought he’d gotten the chance to put his family back to rights, his eldest daughter had done a face plant into crazy town.
His eyes still on Danny, Deuce watched as she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her jeans pocket. Fucking shit, she was smoking now?
“Danielle!” he yelled, unable to stop himself. This shit was too much. He wanted to know what the fuck was going on and he wanted to know right the fuck now.
The club grew quiet as all eyes turned to him. All except for Danny’s.
“God dammit,” he growled.
“Deuce,” Eva whispered, placing her hand on his arm. “I don’t think this is the best—”
“Fuck that,” he shot back, pulling away from her. “I’m not lettin’ this shit go any further.”
He stalked across the room, stopping beside the couch Danny was lying on, and glared at Dirty. The guy shot up and hurried off to the bar, but Danny’s eyes stayed trained on the ceiling.
“Danny,” he growled. “My office. Now.”
No response.
“Did you hear me?” he bellowed. “Get your ass into my office!”
She still didn’t look at him. Didn’t even flinch.
Even as his anger rose, his insides were aching. He wanted his daughter back. His bouncy, easily excitable daughter who never shut the fuck up, who was always wearing pink shit or fuzzy shit or something ridiculously sparkly.
“Fine,” he bit out. “You wanna do this right here, in front of everyone, that’s on you, baby girl.”
Danny turned her head ever so slightly toward him and his chest went tight. Dark circles ringed her eyes. She looked gaunt and the expression on her face…reminded him of Eva in the months after she’d killed Frankie. Pained. Sad. Lost.
“What do you want?” she said, her tone flat, devoid of emotion.
“What do I fuckin’ want? I want you to get your ass off the couch and into the fuckin’ shower ’cause, Danny, you smell worse than Dirty!”
“Hey,” Dirty muttered from the bar. Deuce ignored him.
“Then I want you to get your ass over to the school and sign the fuck up for spring semester!”
Rolling her eyes, she turned away. “No,” she said.
He was already fighting to keep control but, damn her, she was making it difficult.
“No?” he bit out. “You like livin’ with me rent-free? You like free meals, free clothin’, free fuckin’ everything? You don’t get your ass in gear, you’re on your own!”
“Whatever,” she said, and just as he was about to punch a hole in the wall behind the couch, Cage was suddenly up in his face, pushing him backward.
“Dad, leave her alone.”
He shoved his son in the chest and glared at the twenty-two-year-old version of himself. “Leave her alone? She’s my fuckin’ kid, not yours, and I ain’t leavin’ her alone.”
Danny burst out in humorless laughter. “Why not, Daddy?” she sneered. “You’re so good at it.”
Before he could explode, Cage was up his face again. “Dad, I’m askin’ you to leave it be. She doesn’t need this bullshit right now.”
• • •
Cringing, Eva watched Deuce and Cage stare each other down, both of their expressions murderous, wondering who was going to throw the first punch. They were the same height now, both big and broad, Cage only slightly leaner than Deuce but equally as strong.
The club was silent, unmoving, waiting for the father/son explosion they all knew was about to happen.
The two of them didn’t disappoint. They tore into each other, shouting insults, both of them trying to out-bellow the other. And through it all, the entire club was forced to listen to Danny’s life story as the two men closest to her violently rehashed everything Cage had decided Deuce and Christine had done wrong over the years. And it was a lot.
From her drunk of a mother slapping her around, to cheerleading competitions and gymnastics meets no one had gone to, and even a salt map, her third grade social studies project that Deuce had promised to make with her but never had. Cage kept firing, sparing no details, even bringing up that Danny had gone to him, her brother, when she’d gotten her first period because she hadn’t had anyone else.
Every woman inside the club flinched and Deuce, who’d gone rigid hearing this, lost his mind.
“You’re in my fuckin’ club, you little fuckin’ shit! You need to reel your bullshit in before—”
“I give two fucks about your club! You do whatever you gotta do, Dad, and if I gotta, I will take Danny far away from you and your fuckin’ club!”
Appearing beside Eva, Blue whistled under his breath. “Gotta hand it to the boy,” he said quietly. “He’s got balls talkin’ to Deuce like that.”
“I HATE YOU!” Danny screamed, on her feet, pushing in between the two of them. “I HATE YOU BOTH AND I HATE OUR FUCKED-UP FAMILY!”
“You hate me?” Cage demanded, grabbing her arm and roughly bringing her nose-to-nose with him. “You fuckin’ hate me?” he growled.
“You hate our family, Danny,” Deuce yelled, “you can get the fuck out of it!”
Looking up at his father, Cage’s eyes went wide with rage. “How about you get the fuck out of your bullshit club!”
Eva sighed. This was quickly spiraling out of control.
“You little shit,” Deuce yelled, reaching around Danny to slap the name patch on the front of Cage’s cut. “Talkin’ shit to me is one thing but talkin’ shit about the club? This is your fuckin’ club too!”
“Fuck you,” Cage spat. “I had a fuckin’ club long before this one! It was called the Dad ain’t never home, Mom’s drunk and cryin’ in her room, and Cage and Danny only have each other club!”
Okay, this was no longer spiraling, the West family was now well past any sort of control.
“Mick,” Eva called out, quickly crossing the room toward the chaos. “Grab one of them.” She pointed at Bucket. “You, grab another! And someone please grab Danny!”
“Let your sister go,” Mick said, grabbing Cage’s arm.
“This ain’t your business,” Cage growled.
“No,” Eva said, stopping beside Deuce. “It isn’t his business but it’s mine, and Cage, you need to let her go.”
“Not until she takes that bullshit about hatin’ me back!”
“What are you?” Eva yelled. “Five years old? This isn’t helping!”
“Fuck you, Eva!” Danny screamed. “We are not your business!”
“Shut your mouth!” Deuce bellowed just as Cage jerked out of Mick’s hold and slammed his fist into the guy’s face.
“I said this ain’t your business, Mick!”
“You little fuckin’ shit!” Deuce roared, lunging for Cage.
“Someone get Danny out of here!” Eva yelled, scrambling backward as father and son went barreling into each other.
ZZ got to Danny first, swept her off her feet, and tossed her up over his shoulder.
“Take her to her room!” Eva demanded. “And keep her there!”
She waited until ZZ disappeared around the corner, then turned to Mick. “You ok
ay?”
Rubbing his jaw, Mick snorted. “Foxy, you know it ain’t the first time one of those assholes has punched me. Ain’t gonna be the last either. Runs in their blood.”
Sighing, she turned back to the father-and-son leather-clad ball of flying limbs and pained grunts. “Anyone want to help me out here?”
Not surprisingly, no one answered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
For the second time, I slapped my palms against ZZ’s chest and tried to push him out of my way. “Let me out of my room!” I demanded.
He gave my hands an amused glance before looking up at me. “Sorry, Danny, lady of the house said to keep you here and that’s what I’m doin’.”
“Fuck you!” I yelled, spinning around, sweeping my arm across my dresser as I did, sending everything on it flying across the room. “I need to get out of here!”
And I did. I wanted out of my family, out of the club, out of Montana, out of the never-ending depression and nightmares. But the more I daydreamed about running away, the harder it seemed to find the energy to do anything about it.
“Where you gonna go?” ZZ asked quietly. “How you gonna get there?”
“Shut up!” I hissed as I grabbed one of my ridiculous pink throw pillows and whipped it across the room. “Do you really think I need you telling me how pathetic I am?”
“Don’t think you’re pathetic, Danny. Think you’re hurtin’ somethin’ fierce.”
The next pillow I threw, this one purple and fuzzy, hit him square in the face. He picked it up off the floor and examined it closely. “Why’s it fuzzy?” he asked. “What’s the point?”
Cursing, I flung myself facedown on my bed. “Just go away!”
“Can’t. Orders are orders.”
I turned my head so he could see me glaring at him. “Orders are orders,” I mimicked. “Aren’t you a good little sheep.”
To my annoyance, ZZ burst out laughing, shaking his head as he reached into his cut and pulled out his cigarettes. He was still laughing when he took his first drag and ended up choking on it.
“Ha,” I spat, smiling nastily at him.
“You know,” he said, watching me with dark, knowing eyes, eyes I felt like gouging out of his head with a fork. “You could always talk to me. Tell me why you’re actin’ like a fuckin’ maniac. Seems to me like you need someone to talk to.”